Dear Hermione
by AddienaTheBlueSpirit
Summary: the 2nd book told from the pov of Draco in a letter to Hermione


A Letter to Hermione

A Harry Potter Fan Fiction

Dear Hermione Jean Granger;

I have given you plenty reason to hate my intestines, liver, kidneys, and well, basically all the rest of my guts since we were First years on the Hogwarts Express. As you know, this is the most dangerous thing a wizard could do…write a letter that would prove the suspicions of every Death Eater in a ten-league radius to be correct. However, this is something I have to do, and don't worry your overly inelegant--yes, Granger, I admit that your smart, so get over it—head off; I'll explain why soon-enough. Right now just focus on what I am telling you Granger, it is _vital _that you understand what I'm about to tell you. I have a lot to say and I pretty much have no clue how I can make it so you can understand…I'm sure you are smart enough to figure it out if I wrote it for a dyslexic French person, but I just don't want to take such a big risk as it taking you too long to read this.

Hermione, if you remember back to the first day when I called you "Mud Blood" there are some things I realized that day that you need to know. So let us discuss the early part of that dreadful year among the many others that I have always regretted and go from there…

I woke up to the sound of creaking beds that morning, that annoying sound that meant Crabbe and Goyle were fidgeting while waiting for me to wake up so they could head down stairs for yet another meal. That was my warning that I would have to move soon.

"Crabbe, quit moving, I want to sleep in." That was Blaise, the only person I called by their first name, though only when no one could hear. That's when I knew it was time to get up. Turning over onto my side I rested my face in my hands and watched the other three guys in the dorm. "Awe," Was all Blaise said, "I wanted to sleep in this morning." And he put his pillow over his head in an attempt to get back to sleep. I threw off the green and black Slytherin bedding and giving Crabbe and Goyle the signal as we got in a pile on top the unfortunate Italian who had decided to sleep in that morning. "GET-OFF-ME!" Blaise shouted into the mattress, I smirked and removed the others from Blaise. "You could have just used a spell." He said. I know this may sound like a totally different bunch of kids then the ones you've gotten to know, but we actually are like a family. When our parents' would have to go away on "business" we would get together, it didn't make sense to us then, we didn't know what was _really _going on. To us it was nothing, just a great reason to play some two-on-two Quidditch, or Floo to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch and admire-and maybe buy-the most recent in Quidditch gear.

With a sneer worthy of my father, Blaise jumped out of bed in his Harpies P.J.'s and began to get into his robes. Blaise was built like a Keeper; he was tall and thin. His jet-black hair was in the typical bed-head disarray that he sported every morning, grabbing toothbrush in mouth, he walked into the hall way only to get shoved back in by the 5th year Marcus Flint.

"Stay out of my way, Zambini," he snarled. "If I remember correctly you're only a second year, maybe next year you'll be strong enough to be like us…or maybe will get lucky and you'll never grow any taller and we can keep pushing you around for our warm-up." That's when the day veered from its original course, he looked at me, smirked, and nodded before leaving. Between Slytherins, a smirk was like a smile, it was a sign of friendship--well, no--alliance.

Once the older kids out of ear shot, Blaise turned to me. "Did you see Flint? He was totally being civil!" the Italian was ecstatic now, "maybe he wants to give you some of his Fifth Year privileges!"

"Or maybe he'll teach you some of those spells that he uses to bully us!" that bit of total Hippogriff dung came from Goyle. '_When they passed out brains, Goyle ate his.'_ I thought, that made me scowl at myself '_Greg's your friend act like it_.'

"For the last time I don't CARE!" I shouted at them. I had enough on my plate at the time, my father was forcing me to try out for Quidditch and I was far from willing to look Flint in the face out _there_. I couldn't even defend Blaise in my own dorm, how useless could I be?

With nothing but pure bitterness inside, I walked angrily through the Common Room and down to breakfast with Blaise and the buffoons fallowing my every move, feigning anger so we could give the image of a close-knit group. Actually we were close, but in the eyes of the Slytherins it was best to show the same emotion through an entire group, rather than express concern or pleasure when the "leader" was not. Since I was, in the eyes of the beholder, the leader, they had shown over all anger rather than calm me down. If they were seen calming me down, I would be labeled a loose cannon and they wound no longer be the most powerful 2nd years in the school after the Golden Trio (Potter-Weasley-and you-yes _you_ Hermione), who, to our misfortune, could do no wrong.


End file.
